


You Were Never Broken

by etymolodrarry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Demiromantic, Drarry, Fifth Year, Fluff, Gay Draco Malfoy, Harry is pansexual, LGBT, M/M, Magical Theory, No Angst, No Smut, harry is a huge nerd, literally all fluff, pls read it i need validation, so is draco but not as much, there is not a single drop of angst in this, this will be part of a much larger fic that i havent even started writing lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etymolodrarry/pseuds/etymolodrarry
Summary: Harry's only attempt at romance thus far has ended in a never-ending panic attack—and now he's starting to worry that he's just like Voldemort: broken and unable to love.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





	1. Something Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [huffinglepuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffinglepuff/gifts).



> This fic is going to be part of a much longer series! Some things you should know: 
> 
> \- Harry left the Dursleys at age eight, after which he was raised by Regulus Black (with help from Remus and eventually Sirius)   
> \- This takes place in fifth year   
> \- Voldemort never came back   
> \- Harry and Cedric dated for a few weeks during fourth year (Harry was not in the Triwizard tournament)   
> \- Draco is French

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Draco looked up from his copy of  _ Empêchant Réagires _ . “What?” **__ **

“There’s something wrong with me,” Harry repeated, leaning back into the couch, “I’m  _ broken _ .”

“Alright,” Draco said cautiously, putting down his quill, “what’s making you feel broken?” **__ ** **__ **

Harry stared into the dying flames of the fireplace for a moment. “Because of what—what happened,” he waved his hand in the air, hoping Draco would understand.

“Between you and Cedric?” 

“Yeah,” Harry inhaled and exhaled slowly, willing his heart to  _ slow down, damn it. _ It had been  _ months _ , but thinking of Cedric still gave him  _ so much anxiety,  _ and he didn’t know why.

Draco was tapping his fingers on the pages of his textbook. “You’re going to have to explain what happened,” he reached for Harry’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I still don’t understand the situation all that well.”

“Me neither,” Harry muttered, staring at their joined hands. Why wasn’t  _ this _ giving him anxiety? After all, that’s what had started it in the first place. Cedric had held his hand for the first time, and Harry was happy for a blissful twelve hours… until he woke up the next morning in a full-blown panic.  **__ ** **__ **

At the time, he didn’t know  _ what _ was going on with him, only that nothing would make it stop. It had taken him  _ four bloody days _ to relax enough to keep food down, and it was only in moments of distraction that he felt normal—as soon as he slowed down to think, it all came rushing back.

“Did you fancy him?”

Harry leaned forward towards the fire and gave a halfhearted shrug. “I think? I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things. I  _ thought _ I fancied him, but maybe I just felt like I  _ should _ fancy him.

"Why would you feel like you  _ should _ ?" Draco frowned.

"I dunno, he's cute, older, interested in me… how do I know if I liked him for the right reasons? And if I  _ did _ truly fancy him, wouldn’t I be certain of it?” 

Draco tilted his head to the side. “He was the first person you’ve had a crush on, right?” **__ **

“Well, yeah,” Harry admitted, “I mean, I’ve found people  _ attractive,  _ but not in a…  _ romantic _ way.”

“Every person will feel different, you know,” he paused as Harry dragged his eyes from the fire to look at him, “Every person you fancy, every person you  _ love,  _ will feel different.”

“But that’s the  _ thing,” _ Harry used his free hand to fidget with his cloak. “What if I  _ can’t _ love someone? I mean, I’ve  _ tried, _ and all I got from it was a never-ending panic attack.”

“You’ve tried with  _ one person, _ ” Draco pointed out, “your connection with Cedric won’t be the same as your connection to the next person you fancy, or the next person you  _ date _ , and so on.” **__ ** **__ ** “You think it’s all about connection, then?” 

Draco shrugged. “That’s what a relationship is, right? We’re  _ all _ connected, whether it’s platonic, or sexual, or—or  _ romantic.  _ And even if you  _ can’t _ connect with someone romantically… that’s  _ okay. _ It doesn’t make you broken.”

Harry gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Draco squeezed his hand again and returned to his book. He hadn’t released Harry’s hand, leaving him only his non-dominant hand to take notes. Harry laughed as he struggled to circle a word on the page, his quill clutched in his left hand. “Oh, shove off,” Draco rolled his eyes, but he was laughing, too. He still didn’t let go. 

“What are those?” Harry pointed to the textbook, where Draco had circled a dozen words with his quill.

“Those are the words I don’t recognize,” Draco explained, “I’m going to look them up later.” 

“But they’re in French,” he furrowed his brow. “Why don’t you recognize them?” **__ **

“Ah, this is in  _ Middle  _ French,” Draco corrected, “and it’s not exactly written in the vernacular.”

“Hmm,” Harry craned his head to read the notes he’d already written, but the fire was nearly out at this point, and he couldn’t make out the words. “What’s it about?”

“Stability, potency, and shelf life. Of potions, I mean,” Draco answered, “Solvation,  _ résonnant _ , stuff like that.”

Harry nodded, only having a vague idea of what  _ ‘stuff like that’ _ meant. “You’ll share your notes when you’re done?”

Draco gave him a sly smile. “Do I have a  _ choice?” _

“Nope.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Of  _ course, _ you git. Merlin, you’re such a  _ nerd. _ ” **__ **

“Hey, who are you calling a nerd?” Harry squawked, “ _ you’re _ just as much of a nerd as I am—you  _ are!” _ He added when Draco raised an eyebrow at him. “C’mon,  _ you’re _ the one struggling through a 16th century potions textbook, written in  _ Middle French. _ ” **__ **

“Fine,” Draco conceded, “ _ I’m _ a potions nerd, but  _ you’re _ an everything-nerd.”

“Oh, bugger off,” Harry said good-naturedly, and he settled back into the couch to watch Draco as he took notes.

By the time Draco was finished, it was well past curfew—he’d need to borrow Harry’s invisibility cloak to sneak back to his dorm. When he glanced up, he saw Harry still staring into the hearth, his eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Harry tore his eyes away from the embers. “I’m still worried,” he admitted. **__ ** **__ **

“About—about Cedric?” 

“Erm, maybe? Yes?  _ Ugh _ .” There  _ was _ something in particular, but Harry hadn’t even allowed himself to consider it. 

“What is it?”

“I—” Harry stammered, trying to find the right words. “You know how… you know how Voldemort couldn’t love?” **__ **

Draco frowned. “Yes?”

“What if—I’m worried that I—that—” he closed his eyes as they began to water. “I’m worried that I’m the same,” his voice cracked, “I’m worried that I can’t love, either.”

_ “Harry,” _ Draco placed his hand on Harry’s knee, and the urgency in his voice made Harry open his eyes. “You are  _ nothing  _ like him,” he said, “just the fact that you’re worried about this—that’s proof enough.” He paused to move his textbook from his lap and wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders. “There are  _ so many _ types of love— _ you know that! _ It’s not just about romantic love, Harry. You love people  _ so much— _ I can see it, we all can. You love Sirius, and Remus, and Regulus, and all of your friends—you’re  _ nothing _ like Voldemort.” **__ **

Harry felt a rush of warmth flow through him, giving him goosebumps and causing his heart to beat faster—in a  _ good _ way, for once. He smiled at Draco through watery eyes. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I  _ am _ right, you prat,” Draco flicked him in the nose, and his heart ached when Harry’s resulting laughter caused a few tears to cascade down his cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, as if his face wasn’t flushed and covered in tears. “Your speech just cheered me up, that’s all.” **__ ** **__ **

Draco studied his face for a moment before removing his arm from around Harry. “I’m sorry you’re going through this right now,” he said softly, looking down at his hands.  **__ **

“No, it’s alright,” Harry shook his head, “I’ll be okay. I’ve got you, after all.”

“What I mean is—” he swallowed, and Harry tilted his head, trying to decipher his sudden nervousness. Draco  _ never _ got nervous—at least, not around Harry. “What I mean is… romantic feelings are hard for you, yeah?” He waited for Harry to nod. “I don’t want to burden you with anything, I just—” **__ ** **__ **

“Draco,” Harry interrupted, “spit it out.”

“I have feelings for you,” Draco whispered.

Harry blinked. “Oh.” 

Draco’s face twisted into something unreadable, and he started to shift away from Harry on the couch. “We can stay friends, right?” He asked desperately, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship and I’m sorry if I’m creeping you out or making you uncomfortable,  _ especially _ since you’re dealing with all of this right now. Merlin, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut, huh? This isn’t fair to you—”The words caught in his throat when Harry leaned over, swiftly planting a kiss on his cheek.  **__ **

“I—” Draco’s eyes were comically wide as he slowly lifted his hand to touch the side of his face, a flush barely visible in the low light of the common room.

“Shut  _ up _ , Draco,” Harry laughed, “you’re my best friend no matter what, you hear me?” He pulled his invisibility cloak from his bag and quickly draped it across Draco’s shoulders. “You should get some sleep, it’s late,” he stood from the couch, carefully stepping over the open textbook on the floor. “Goodnight, Draco.” **__ **

“Night,” Draco responded softly. He sat there for a moment, his hand pressed to his cheek as he listened to Harry's footsteps as he ascended the stairs to his dorm, before slowly standing up to head to the dungeons. 


	2. Not Broken

> _The key difference between_ facimus algidorum _and_ efficimus algidorum _is the mechanism by which the temperature change is created;_ ~~efficimus algidorum~~ facimus algidorum _withdrawals energy as heat—_

"Hey, you got the two cooling charms mixed up," Harry slid Draco's charms essay across the table, causing him to look up.

"Did I?" Draco frowned. "Ugh, the incantations are too similar."

"I agree," Harry nodded, "but I think that's the only thing you need to change."

"Thanks," Draco passed him his parchment, "yours is good—though _mine_ is definitely better," he added with a smirk.

"Is that a challenge?" Harry raised an eyebrow, "because I could always add that _facimus algidorum_ is _technically_ transfiguration, since it conjures a thermal reservoir—" 

Draco hit his shoulder with his charms textbook. “Oh, shut up," he laughed, and Harry felt a surge of satisfaction as Draco grinned at him. His whole face lit up when he smiled, and Harry couldn't help but stare as a warm feeling bloomed in his chest.

 _Maybe I_ do _like him,_ Harry thought to himself. He recalled how it'd felt to kiss him on the cheek the other night, and felt a rush of adrenaline that took his breath away. _I do, don't I?_

"C'mon, we're going to be late," Draco interrupted his revelation by collecting Harry's textbooks for him.

"Wouldn't be the first time," Harry smiled.

* * *

It had been a few days since Harry kissed Draco on the cheek, and neither of them had mentioned it. Harry was _waiting_ for Draco to ask about it, but the question never came.

In the meantime, Harry was trying to decide if he'd be able to handle dating Draco. After all, his last attempt at romance had been an utter _disaster,_ but the situation certainly wasn't the same—Cedric had been three years older than him, and they'd only spoken for a few months. As for Draco—they'd been best friends for _five bloody years._

Harry supposed it was a different feeling, too. Holding Draco's hand was nice; it felt _natural._ The thought of _kissing_ him—Harry found his mind wandering to that quite often—gave him a thrill that was akin to flying, too.

Harry frowned as Draco took a small sip of his pumpkin juice. "Are you nervous for Quidditch?" He stared at the food on Draco's plate—he hadn't touched any of it.

"A bit," he answered. The match was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and though Harry thought it’d be an easy win for Slytherin, Draco wasn’t quite so sure.

“You’ll do great,” Harry assured him, “eat your lunch, it’ll calm you down.” 

Draco still looked unsure, but when Harry threatened to forgo his own lunch, too, he gave in. Harry tried to engage in conversation to distract him, but his mind was too preoccupied. Instead, he reached for Draco’s hand and gave it a squeeze, like he’d done hundreds of times before. He gave Draco a small smile and ignored the blush across the blonde’s face.

There was another thing—the silences between them were never awkward. With Cedric, Harry was always scrambling to think of something to say, trying to come up with clever one-liners and jokes to ease the tension. But with Draco, he never had to _try—_ in fact, Harry sometimes found himself having _too_ much say, like there wasn’t enough time in the day to share it all. He’d go off on tangents, as each story or topic reminded him of another, until he realized two hours later that he’d never finished telling his original story.

"I'm going to get ready, I think," Draco pushed his plate away with a sigh. "You finish your lunch, okay?"

"Alright," Harry nodded, "I'll catch you before the match, then.

* * *

"Don't worry, you'll do great," Harry gave Draco a quick hug when they'd reached the Quidditch changing rooms. "Hey, are you coming to the common room after dinner? I finished _Steady Minds_ last night, so you can read it now."

Draco tilted his head. "Would that be alright?” He asked carefully, and Harry realized with a start that he wasn’t going to mention the kiss at all—at least, not until Harry did, all in an effort to not make him uncomfortable.

"Well, yeah." Harry furrowed his brow.

"Sure, then," Draco agreed. "You know me, always eager to read your hand-me-down reading material."

"Hey, I _offered_ to let you read it first, you git!" Harry laughed, shoving his shoulder. "You should go get ready. Good luck, yeah?" He gave Draco another hug, using the opportunity to kiss him on the cheek again. It was quite enjoyable, if he was being honest—it gave him a thrill that made his toes curl.

Harry left for the stands, not waiting for Draco's reaction. He resisted the urge to turn back and look, but if he had, he would've seen Draco gripping the entryway in an effort to stay upright. 

* * *

The match started off relatively normal; the players kicked off and Slytherin quickly scored their first goal. Harry wasn't paying attention to the quaffle, though; he was much more interested in watching Draco play. You could tell he'd had years of practice—he glided through the air, twisting and turning between players like a dance, unfazed by the bludgers slung his way.

It wasn't long before Harry noticed that something was off. It was if Draco had lost his footing, like something was throwing him off. His movements were more rigid and he started and stopped abruptly instead of weaving through the players. It didn't look like his broom was tampered with, thankfully. Harry studied the field. His eyes followed the quaffle as Ravenclaw scored their next goal, bringing the score to a tie. That was it—why was the quaffle staying so close to Draco? Usually the seeker stayed far away from most of the gameplay to allow them to keep an eye out for the snitch, but this time, the Ravenclaw chasers seemed to be following him—trying to surround him so that he wouldn't be able to spot the snitch.

The next time Slytherin had the quaffle, Draco had his moment of clarity—all he really had to do was stick to the areas that Ravenclaw wouldn't go near; they certainly weren't going to surround their _own_ seeker, nor would they risk passing the quaffle near their own goalpost. 

Draco managed to break away from the Ravenclaws and started pacing the pitch, flying back and forth between the Ravenclaw goalpost and wherever the Ravenclaw seeker happened to be. It paid off, because within seconds, he'd spotted the snitch. Harry felt a burst of pride as Draco dove for it; his Spiral Dive was absolutely _flawless_ , and it was clear that the crowd thought so too, if their gasps were any indication. 

* * *

"That was _brilliant!"_ Harry threw his arms around Draco as soon as he'd left the changing rooms, and Harry’s subsequent kiss on the cheek sent Draco stumbling. "You should've _seen_ their faces—they were so sure they would win!" 

"I'm surprised, myself," Draco admitted with a flush as Harry stepped back to walk with him towards the castle. "It took me a bit to figure out what they were doing."

"They were banking on you not catching on," Harry added. 

"Hey, can I ask a question?"

"Yeah, of course," Harry grabbed Draco's hand as they walked; it was sweaty, but he didn't care.

"Why do you—why do you keep kissing me on the cheek?"

Harry bit his lip, glancing over at him. "Is it—er, is it okay?"

 _“What?_ Of course—” Draco cleared his throat. “Of course it’s _okay,_ I mean—but _why?”_

Harry shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. “I just wanted to,” he said softly, “so I did.”

“Oh,” Draco rewarded him with one of his soft smiles. “Alright.”

After dinner, they settled into their usual spot in the common room. Draco got started on _Steady Minds_ **_,_ ** while Harry cracked open a new copy of _Healing: Magical and Mundane_ . It was already late in the evening, so it wasn’t long before Draco’s eyes began to droop. 

"You should go to bed early, I think," Harry giggled as he watched Draco grow sleepier. "It's already nine-thirty."

"I'm _so_ tired," he leaned forward until his face touched his knees. 

"C'mon," I'll walk you to your dorm."

Draco allowed Harry to pull him into a standing position and lead him out the Gryffindor common room. “Are your legs sore?” Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist as the blond boy clumsily descended the first of many staircases.

“A bit,” Draco answered, “I’ll do some stretches before bed, I think.” 

“Here,” Harry pulled him to the side of the corridor, stepping back to draw his wand. _"Laxantur torum,"_ he carefully moved his wand in a large circle, and Draco visibly relaxed when the spell worked.

"Thanks," Draco smiled gratefully, reclaiming his hand as they continued to the dungeons, "Madam Pomfrey better watch out, or you'll put her out of business."

"If everyone would stop getting injured, maybe," Harry laughed.

"Really though, maybe she'll take you on as an apprentice after you graduate."

Harry tilted his head. "Yeah, maybe," he said, "I dunno if I want to go into healing. It sounds fun, though."

"Whatever you do, you'll be great at it," Draco squeezed his hand.

"You too, obviously."

Since it was so close to curfew, they didn't run into a single student on the way to Draco's dorm. By the time they made it there, in fact, they only had minutes to spare.

"Of _course_ I do," Harry rolled his eyes and gave Draco one last kiss on the cheek, smiling in satisfaction when he flushed. "Night, Draco," he turned to leave, already throwing the cloak around his shoulders.

"Wait, Harry—"

"Yeah?" He turned; eyebrows raised.

Draco was giving him puppy dog eyes as he held out his arms, wiggling his fingers. "One more hug?"

He didn't have to ask twice. Harry immediately slung the cloak over his shoulder and rushed to Draco's side to oblige him. It was the perfect set up, really—it was like Draco was _asking_ for another kiss on the cheek. 

Except—not exactly. It seemed Draco had had the same idea as Harry; when Harry turned his head to kiss Draco, Draco had done the same, and their lips collided rather roughly. 

The thrill Harry got from kissing Draco on the cheek was _nothing_ compared to a _real_ kiss. Electricity arced through his body as he threw his arms around Draco in an effort to remain upright. His limbs had turned to jelly—he would certainly fall over if he let go. " _Whoa,"_ Harry rested his forehead on Draco's shoulder, _"bloody hell."_

"Me, too," Draco agreed. He'd stumbled backwards when their lips connected, leaving him flat against the smooth stone wall.

Harry lifted his head carefully, his face inches from Draco's, and gently cupped his face with his palm before kissing him again, _intentionally_ this time. 

Their lips were clumsy and their teeth clashed against one another, but Harry hardly noticed as all coherent thought flew out the window. Draco made a small, satisfied noise in the back of his throat, and Harry's knees turned to jelly. 

When they pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against Draco's, unable to stop the ear-splitting grin from spreading across his face. "I have feelings for you, too," he whispered.

 _I'm not broken,_ Harry thought idly as he gently threaded his fingers through Draco's hair, _and I never was._

* * *

**_Bonus:_ **

  * **_Empêchant Réagires:_** **from French** ** _empêcher_** **(to stop) and French** ** _réagir_** **(of chemistry: to react)**
  * **_Facimus algidorum:_** **from Latin** ** _faciō_** **(produce, create)** **and Latin** ** _algidus_** **(cold)**
  * **_Efficimus algidorum:_** **from Latin** ** _efficio_** **(to cause) and Latin** ** _algidus_** **(cold)**
  * **_Laxantur torum:_** **from Latin** ** _laxō_** **(relax, relieve) and Latin** ** _torus_** **(muscle)**



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It isn't explicitly mentioned in the fic, but Harry is demiromantic in this story! Obviously not every demiromantic (or demisexual) person will have the same experience, but this is based off of mine! 
> 
> (friendly reminder that whether you're asexual, aromantic, demisexual, demiromantic, grayace, or grayaro, you're valid!!)


End file.
